


Derek and the Ghost in the Library

by 182daysof



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Some mild horror, Sterek Week, sterekweek2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/182daysof/pseuds/182daysof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale did not believe in ghosts. Except that he did as of five minutes ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek and the Ghost in the Library

 

Derek absolutely did not believe in ghosts. Except for that as of five minutes ago he did. 

Returning a lost book to the Beacon Hills Library had seemed like the right thing to do. Well it had been more of an excuse really to get the hot chocolate he'd been hankering for all evening. Except he was now staring through the glass panel door above the return slot watching as a chair moved of its own accord. It was pulled away from a polished wood table and creaked like someone was sitting down on it. A book on the table moved. Opened. Pages were flickering. 

It couldn't be magic. What kind of magic would do that? It had to be a ghost. Except, they didn't exist.  Lydia believed in ghosts. It made sense to her heritage. Banshee and all that. Stiles also believed. He'd backed her up at the last pack meeting after he scoffed in derision that ghosts existed. Stiles hadn't been able to understand why Derek, who believed in the Fae, refused to believe in ghosts. To Stiles, it had been illogical. He could still hear his exasperated voice, 'Seriously, Derek, you're telling me you believe in the Raven King, but you don't believe in the witching hour? That some part of a soul remained on this earth trapped?"

He'd laughed at the time. Called it absurd. He wasn't laughing now. He felt like he should be. This couldn't be real. He recalled how Stiles had explained about the witching hour. Specifically, All Hallows Eve. The night when the veil between the deceased and the living world was supposedly at its weakest. 

He blinked. Glanced about and pulled out his phone and saw that it was 11.25pm. A little late to be returning a library book. Still, he'd reason that he'd been the perfect time to get a hot chocolate from the local drive-through coffee house open 24/7 as per the signage. 

He turned back to the door, trying to look deep into the library trying to see if this was an elaborate prank when abruptly a woman's face appeared in front of him on the other side of the glass, mouth open screaming silently. Just as suddenly she disappeared.  

He staggered back two or three steps, startled.  He wiped a suddenly sweaty palm against his jeans. He stepped back closer to the door. There was no one there.

"Hello?"  A voice rang out. 

Derek glanced down at the phone he'd clenched in his hand. Shit he'd speed dialed Stiles. 

"Hello, Derek?" Stiles' voice began to sound worried. 

Still shocked, Derek stared at the pane glass door. The apparition was gone. If it had even been there at all.

"Derek?!" Stiles called sound slightly more panicked, then the previous second ago. "If you don't answer me, I'm GPS tracking your phone and you know I can." 

He put the phone to his ear. "I'm here."

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked immediately picking up on his tone.

"I'm..." Derek paused. 

"Why are you at the Library?" Stiles asked into the silence. He'd obviously already tracked him. He should've been annoyed by that, but he was oddly reassured.  There was an odd jingle down the line. It sounded like keys. 

"I....A book... " 

A scraping sound made his voice taper off. Derek watched again as a the chair was pushed back in towards the study table. It snapped back against the table forcefully.  The wood of the table beginning to crack a little under the pressure. The table sliding towards the wall. He couldn't see anyone else in the Library forcing this to happen. A trick of light and Derek backed up a step suddenly having a bad feeling. He turned hastily intending to head out of the foyer and back to his car and was confronted by the woman. She was inches from his face. He couldn't help the terrified gasp that he let out. 

The Ghost.  

Her face was pale, lips garishly red, eyes black with fury. Blond hair like a dark demonic halo. She was angry at him. Black rage washed her face.  What would've been a smart office suit, blue pencil skirt, peach blouse, was torn and caked with blood. She couldn't have been more than twenty eight. 

He shuffled backwards watching as the Ghost tilted her head at him. 

He was prey. 

She wanted him for something. 

"Derek?" Stiles said. "Just stay on the line. If you can. Just stay on the line." 

"I'll try." He strangled the words out of his tight throat. Realizing with surprise that he was scared. He'd survived his ex-girlfriend coming back from the dead. But, this Ghost, she scared him. This was something that could be reasoned away. 

Before he could say anything else, he staggered, completely and utterly terrified as the Ghost rushed him. She passed right through him. It felt like shards of ice daggers cutting through him. Another cold shiver through his entire body. He dropped the phone. It landed with a clatter on the marble floor. Screen shattered. 

"Derek?" Stiles yelled as a car purred to life through the phone line. 

Feeling icy cold, Derek grabbed the ornate door handle for support desperately trying to remember the jovial banter between Lydia and Stiles as they had discussed what you'd need to halt a haunting. He needed iron. Something made of iron.  He shivered again. Full body trembles. He was dressed for fall not winter. Light sweater, a shirt. 

He shivered. It was so cold.  His eyes darted about the foyer and he spotted her across the foyer watching him with dark intent. 

Anger. That's what he felt. Righteous anger. Dark fury and it was coming from her. 

He collapsed down slightly to his knees. Only his grip on the door handle keeping him upright... he glanced at the door handle. 

Iron. It was made of iron. The building was from the 1940s and while much of the Library had been restored and remodeled, certain furnishings remained. This iron door handle was one of them. 

He glanced at her and the door handle. It was keeping at her bay. 

He flexed his hand on the handle. Tightening his grip - trying to figure out a way out.  As soon as he moved she'd be on him. 

She wanted him. 

He could feel it. 

Her lips were moving. Whispering something.

He couldn't hear her and he was thankful for that small mercy.

It was then he realized with a start that Stiles was still talking.  Babbling actually. 

"I'm just on seventh... I can hear you. Okay. I'm right here. So whatever is happening just breathe. Take a breath." 

Unconsciously, Derek followed the direction. Taking a shuddering breath.

"And another, okay, you're doing so well. You can do it. Take a breath."

Again, not sure why he was instinctively following the direction, Derek followed it. Another shuddering breath and then another.

"That's good. Okay. That's good." 

Oh. 

He was hyperventilating.  It was strange. He had wondered what a panic attack felt like and this must be it.  He stared at the cracked phone. It felt like Stiles was right there with him. Carrying him through. 

A car door slammed over the line. 

"Iron." Derek breathed out desperately. "Iron..." 

"What" There was a pause. "Ir..." Stiles went silent another scrummaging sound, but that faded out as Derek's attention was drawn back to the Ghost and he sucked in a sharp terrified breath. She was kneeling in front of him. Her wrathful face staring at him. 

She couldn't touch him. Not while he held the door handle. He gripped it tighter. Fingers digging into its cold metal.  Her eyes darted to it. Considering. She flickered fading in and out and then she settled into a more solid apparition. 

Derek glanced at the Grandfather clock that rest above the foyer entry door. It was nearing midnight.  Five minutes away. 

He shivered. His breath misting out in front of him. It was so cold. His grip loosened slightly on the door handle.  She smiled. 

She was making it cold. 

She was getting stronger. 

She opened her mouth and screamed. This time he could hear it. A terrible screeching sound. Inhuman. 

Cringing, Derek let go of the handle moving to cover his ears.

She smiled all garish teeth. 

The air in the foyer was arctic now. She seemed to be getting more solid and when she reached out and touched his knee, he felt it. An arctic grip. He balked. Terrified. He couldn't look away from her. 

"All right you bitch." Stiles' voice.  "He's mine." 

It wasn't coming from the phone this time. Derek's eyes snapped up and he saw Stiles a vision in a black sweater and khaki pants behind the Ghost brandishing a tire iron. He swung it hard and the Ghost screamed this time in pain and vanished. 

Derek could only watch as keeping a tight grip on the tire iron, Stiles quickly knelt down in front of Derek and cast a circle of mountain ash and then lined with a circle of salt around them.  Only then did he turn to Derek, who felt frozen a little lost by the proceedings. 

Stiles rough warm hand touched his cheek. "Jesus you're cold." 

Derek's gaze moved around the foyer. Stiles long fingers gripped his chin and forced gaze back to him. "I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?" 

He wanted to ... his vision was blacking out. He still felt cold. 

"Derek." Stiles' voice sharpened. "I've got you." He made a show of sucking in a deep breath and then nodded at Derek to do the same. 

Without knowing why he followed the direction again. Stiles' grip gentled, and he smiled at him encouragingly. "That's it. Good." 

"What.." Derek struggled to speak.  He shivered. He could see her across the foyer - watching them.

Stiles frowned at him. "We need to get you warm, but we're not going anywhere at the moment so..."  Then completely ignoring the ghost he maneuvered them both so he was gripping Derek resting him between his legs. He pulled  Derek close to his chest attempting to warm him up, rubbing at Derek's arms. "So now... I can guess that she did something... that's why you're cold?" He muttered thoughtfully. 

Derek closed his eyes sinking into the warmth and listening to the quick steady heartbeat underneath his ear.  He shivered again, body kicking out and Stiles tightened his hold. 

He had no idea how long they sat there, but gradually the trembling ceased as whatever she had done to him faded. He felt Stiles' arms tighten around him. "Mrs Patchett."

"What..." 

"That's who that was... or used to be." 

"Mrs Patchett."Derek couldn't keep the incredulousness out of his voice. "That thing was Mrs Patchett."  

"Yeah... she had a... her boyfriend killed her in the library and she's been stuck here ever since."  Stiles paused. "And before you ask... Lydia told me the story when we were 13 and scared the crap out of me. Hated this library ever since."

"He's mine?" Derek wondered, Stile's words finally sinking in. The heartbeat underneath his ear sped up, but when Stiles spoke his voice was steady.

"Is that a problem?" 

Surprisingly, it wasn't. It had been coming for a while now. Stiles was the first number on his speed dial. He was the one he looked to for advice for help and increasingly Stiles had returned that interest. That unfettered care. Derek's hand reached up and covered Stiles'. "No."  

A chaste kiss was pressed to his temple and then slowly Stiles helped Derek to his feet, he wavered slightly, but Stiles was there to steady him, ground him back to reality. Later they would find the book that somehow kept Mrs Patchett bound to the Library. They would salt and burn it on her grave with the rest of her remains. But for now Stiles broke the ash and salt line with the heel of his boot and then wrapping an arm around Derek's waist helped him out of the foyer to take him home.  Pausing on the threshold, Stiles surged forward and pressed soft heated kiss to Derek's lips. A promise. Pulling back, he grinned and smiled at whatever expression covered his face. 

"I guess you believe in Ghosts now, huh." 


End file.
